


Golden Hour

by Navygoldstars



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Comfort, Developing Friendships, F/M, Gen, Potential Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:20:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23237581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Navygoldstars/pseuds/Navygoldstars
Summary: Before Noah's funeral, Isobel goes to the Crashdown to escape and think. Kyle appears, the bearer of curly fries.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	Golden Hour

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic ever! Still have not seen the S2 premiere but wanted to share a maybe moment between two of my faves. Loved their chemistry in S1 and can't wait to see where this season takes all the characters!

It was worse that they had all decided to keep Max’s death a secret.

Liz was determined they could try to revive him, like he had done for Rosa. They had put him in a pod but that had been a week ago. Isobel steadily felt her hope dwindle away. Aliens were supposed to heal quickly. _If they were alive,_ she thought bitterly.

The last place she wanted to be this morning was at a sad corner stool at the Crashdown but Max’s voice was in her head to keep up appearances. She didn’t especially want to be at home either.

Noah was dead. She literally planned his funeral. _The bastard. Just one more courtesy he didn’t deserve._ The people of Roswell would never know that it was her brother she was mourning. The neon lights flickered and the glass on the pie display near her began to trembling. She gripped the plastic menu harder and took a deep breath in. _Think. Control._ She exhaled.

“Curly fries?”. The glass ceased it’s movement and she turned her head to see Kyle Valenti, holding a basket of curly fries and a cup of coffee. It was _absurd_. She put down the menu. 

“Huh?” Her snarky side nudged at her to say something like, _special delivery?_ But nothing came out.

“Come on you love these things. They’re your favorite, right? Plus, I told Arturo that I would take this to you.” He put down the fries and slid them near her.

“How did you know these were my favorite?” She glanced at the plate and back up at him. 

“Well, I had a rough shift at the hospital a few weeks ago. Came here and Arturo tells me that he gave the last order of the day to _you_. _They’re her favorite_ , he says. I’ve held a grudge ever since.” He pointedly did not mention that she had been sitting with Noah at that time.

She wanted to be alone but her lack of sleep, possibly the cold fluorescence of the diner made her shrug and motion to the stool next to her. She snatched the curliest fry she could find and blew on it for a split second before biting into it. The light crunch and taste of the oil was perfect.

“Peace offering?” Isobel pushed the hot curly fry filled plate towards Kyle. It burned her finger slightly to touch.

“Fine, I’ll take your pity fries.” He relaxed into the seat and his black bomber jacket brushed up against her arm, a whiff of sterile hospital cleaner reaching her nose. He shifted until there was a comfortable space between them and sipped at his coffee. She pointed at the mug.

“Thought that was for me too.”

“The curly fries weren’t enough? Give a guy a break, Evans.” He leaned forward and gripped the mug with both hands, possessive. She squinted. 

“Speaking of breaks.. don’t you have patients to see right now?”

“I am seeing a patient.” He smirked and tore through a curly fry.

She almost laughed at his audacity. _Being under your care once while having alien blackouts does not count as comprehensive provider-patient care_.

The door chimed and a trickle of people came in ready for breakfast.

She quirked her eyebrow and remained silent. He yawned and tapped the table, somewhat nervously.

“Have you talked to Michael lately?” He asked. _Well, that was certainly one way to start a conversation. I’m doing great Kyle, thanks for asking._

“Not.. recently. He wasn’t really coherent the last time I went to see him.” A few nights ago, their tears and anger were a never-ending cycle that put them both to sleep on the tiny bed in the airstream. She woke up to heatedly toss a blanket off at dawn and Michael was gone.

“Well, I saw him earlier. Alex and Maria had to peel them out of Maria’s truck. They called me over to take a look at him. He looked... ” _Destroyed_ , he didn’t have to say. She felt the same. She didn’t know if she would _ever_ get her brother back.

Her eyes welled up and Kyle put his hand atop hers.

“I’ve been wanting to see him. I just.. the funeral, the everything.” She sighed in frustration. 

He slid his hand off hers to run it through his hair and stuttered out.

“Sorry, shi--- not what I meant. What I meant to say is you’re not alone in this. Neither is he.” Shockingly, she believed him. She slowly nodded.

His phone ringtone blared. It was the hospital, he murmured apologetically. Before rushing out, he motioned to her to not worry over the tab and dropped a hand on her shoulder

“Isobel, I’m really sorry about what happened with.. _Noah_.” At the emphasis on his name and the way he stared into her eyes, she knew what he meant. _I’m really sorry about what happened with Max._

“If you need anything, just let me know. I’ll see you at the funeral.” When she blinked, he was already swinging open the door and stepping into the sun. She stared after him and brushed where his hand had just been on her shoulder. _What the hell just happened?_

Getting out of bed that day had been exhausting. She anticipated it but dear god, she didn’t even get to drink anything.

The strength of her emotions tied insanely with her powers. All she ever felt now was rage, betrayal and misery. It was a miracle she had any glass left in her house. Apparently, telekinesis came easy but was difficult to control at will. She admired Michael’s restraint.

She missed Michael. Her powers of influence had never affected him but she didn’t want him to feel her suffering on top of everything else.

She took one last curly fry from the plate and took a steady pace to the exit. Her phone began to ring and she looked down to see her Mom calling. It was finally time to bury Noah Bracken and she knew exactly what to wear. 


End file.
